


Breathe

by Matthew1972



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Angst, Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Hopeful Ending, Hugs, Hunt Gone Wrong, Hurt Sam Winchester, Kissing, M/M, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Permanent Injury, References to Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 00:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20054917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matthew1972/pseuds/Matthew1972
Summary: Sombre silence haunts the bunker in the aftermath of a mission gone wrong. Castiel stays close to watch over an injured Sam, powerless and held at a distance, until the hunter regains his strength to fight his inner demons. For that though he has to almost fall into darkness. Almost, because Castiel is there to catch him, unwilling to let go and lose Sam when he feels so many human emotions for him…





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Story and artwork created for the Sastiel Creations Challenge 8th round, prompt was the song Hold On by Chord Overstreet.
> 
> Story trigger warning: implied suicide attempt

_Hold on, I still want you_  
_ Come back, I still need you_  
_ Let me take your hand, I'll make it right_  
_ I swear to love you all my life_  
_ Hold on, I still need you_

* * *

The silence in the bunker war room is deafening. Too sombre. Filled with hurt and unspoken emotions of guilt and grief. As much as Castiel wants to rip it apart he knows he can't force it, not without hurting Sam on top of his physical injuries. Though hidden from sight Castiel can't forget the ugly reminders of the hunt gone wrong. They show in the way Sam favours his left leg while browsing the books on the shelves stacked up high against the nearby wall… and how with each other step he drags the right one.

Castiel swallows down the painful memory of having seen the mess made by those horrid claws. Flesh ripped open, muscles too. The insane amount of blood and its ugly smell of life seeping away in spurts of red. By far too vivid can he recall how he had used his hands to seal shut the large, deep gashes. How he'd pushed his grace forth until he was so bone deep exhausted from healing Sam that his entire vessel shook with it. It should have been enough, had he been his former self, but it wasn't. Oh, Sam still lives, but he will never be the same hunter again.

Through his lashes Castiel looks up from the page in the book, which he's not quite seeing. Research means nothing at the sight of Sam. His pale skin and jaded eyes alone haunt Castiel in every waking hour. He knows that the hunter doesn't sleep. Has seen how Sam barely eats, and even when insisted upon, he manages no more than a few bites. The far too often said phrase of "I am fine" drives Castiel up the walls, because Sam is everything but.

No pity asked or given, because the hunter can't stand anything remotely like it. Blames himself to the point of anger almost. Castiel can see it pulse beneath the surface, behind the mask Sam has put up to keep others out. Why? He's not sure. Sam is a private man. Has been through more than most humans and still he refuses to stand down from what he believes in. An admirable trait to Castiel. Even when he can see the downside he can't ignore or deny how bright the soul in his presence shines. Stubborn in its strength, a typical Winchester force.

What makes it harder for Castiel to forget what happened on the hunt is that fate threw the remarkable trait of compassion back into Sam's face. The innocent man the monster used to be before he shifted made the other choice. Why? For the life of him he can't forgive it for stepping into the dark willingly. Less so over how it ripped out the hearts of two bystanders, one but a child, a girl whom until her last breath held onto her teddy bear. An image he can't shake off… one he knows which stays locked in Sam's brain too, not that they speak about it. So far only silence clouds over them.

Sam stumbles, but he barely groans because of the pain he must feel. He's still far too wrapped up in what goes unsaid. Every attempt from Castiel to break his sombre mood though gets thwarted with an excuse or a gesture. Hiding in research is the only source which Sam has left to feel safe in… and by extension Castiel too. From the bunker they steer along a team of hunters led by Dean. A handful of brave souls out to chase the escaped monster in name of Sam. Action over words as is their way. Something Castiel has learned to respect. Why he now sits in observation, trying to be covert and slowly failing at it…

"Cas." Sam sighs out a barely there sound, one which manages to include an all too clear warning for him to stop watching.

"Sam… I…"

He breaks off where Sam stalks over to the table, limping and yet unfailing in his stare of annoyance. "You should have gone after it with them. I don't need a minder." He pours himself a glass of whisky from the gone half empty bottle and takes a large gulp of warming alcohol.

"Two sets of eyes can find answers faster than one."

Sam swallows and sets down the glass before returning to the shelves. "That's what Dean said."

"_And_ he was right." Castiel knows he's pushing it, but he can't bear the thought of leaving Sam by himself. Hurt and without distraction or support to take the edge off his mood. He needs to be sure that the hunter won't do anything to harm himself further. Can see the darkness lurk from within. Guilt over perceived failure, a cruel beast which stalks the mind and eats away at it. "Sam, I need to recharge. I can be of no use to Dean like this…" Sorrow creeps into his voice, bitter regret over not being strong enough to heal Sam properly.

"I know." Something in Sam gives. Hazel eyes flash at him, softer than before and yet darkened too by emotions that Castiel can only guess at. "So, read and find the answers to how we kill the damned beast." He gestures at the open book on the table in a way which leaves no room to argue with. One shrug, and Sam returns to his earlier browsing of the book-filled shelves.

The closed off stance of his tense shoulders stops Castiel short from reasoning with the torn-up hunter. More so even than before he looks like a bird with broken wings. Sam needs to be out on the chase as much as Castiel longs to keep him safe, cared for. Every part of him aches to wrap Sam up, to send him to sleep and heal him, if he can. His grace itches inside of his vessel, trying to burn brighter. He has never felt like this about a human before. Knows how fragile they are. That they can't live forever, no matter how much grace he sends into them. To see the mortality in Sam lying bared so close to the surface frightens him more than it used to. Why?

Careful to aim his eyes on the book laid out before him, Castiel fails to see the letters for what they are. Instead the unwanted sight and smell of blood on his hands, which he can't forget, draws his mind back to memories. Six days ago… it all boils down to that second choice thwarted. Compassion denied. Hope turned to despair and loss of life. Yes, their small, raggedy family of hunters has walked away from it, but at what cost to the one who had fronted their stand for good?

Self-aimed anger over his shortcomings floods into his mind. Heaven keeps him shut out, a choice Castiel can live with for himself, because down here he can make up for past mistakes and help the Winchesters. He needs to find a way though to replenish his grace. One last burst of angelic powers might be enough to return Sam to his old self. He who is the soul they need to beat evil for once and all… of this Castiel is sure, has been for some time too. At least, that is what he tells himself over the flutter of more human emotions he doesn't understand, not while they are a growing part of him. Angels don't do mortal love, or do they? But here he is, feeling for Sam the way he does. Afraid and hopeful at the same time.

Castiel turns the page in an attempt to distract himself. Purpose over strange emotions. They will have to wait. The former soldier in him needs to help Dean avenge what's been done to Sam. Maybe then the younger Winchester can sleep without nightmares, eat again and heal himself by taking care of his basic human needs. For Sam, he tells himself as he translates the ancient Latin words from the book to his mind, where he draws his conclusions. No, this volume doesn't give them any answers to where the monster may hide and how to kill it when bullets don't work.

Closing the book, Castiel looks over to the shelves from where the man on his mind has left to render the bunker to a now empty silence. What?! Where did he go? A rush of deep concern wells up inside of Castiel. It's not like Sam to walk off without a word.

He blinks at the open bottle and the abandoned glass of whisky, standing next to it. Well, at least Sam did not retreat to get drunk, unlike Dean would do. But despite the pinprick of relief all Castiel feels is dread. He has feared a fight or a breakdown for days, but instead the hunter continues to pull himself further behind those infuriating walls of stubbornness. Is that where Sam is now? So far hidden from the world, and his family, that Castiel can't find him?

It doesn't help his rising fears either that the pocketknife left behind earlier has gone missing from the last table surface in the row of three. Despair brought on by the cold realisation of its absence sends Castiel up from his chair, which he pushes back and to the side in a flash of raw emotions and force. Running through the hallways in his search for Sam he clings to the unwanted helpful detail that in such a short time he can't have made it up the stairs and outside of the bunker on his busted leg. Castiel just needs to reach him in time and stop him… before Sam tries anything foolish.

* * *

The sight before him freezes Castiel on the spot. Sitting on the floor, Sam has never looked so small or fragile. He has curled his long limbs in on himself, almost as if he is afraid to take up too much space and he might offend someone by being in his own bedroom. Only his right arm lies spread out, its hand held open on the floor. On it rests the no longer missing pocketknife, folded open to an ominous gleam in the artificial light. The lamp on the bedside table though can't light up all of Sam. His face is still shrouded by his mess of unwashed hair. Fingers twitch while the rest of his sitting form heaves through a stuttered breath, which borders on a sob of pure anguish.

Castiel takes a step, drawn forth to shield Sam from demons, no matter if they are attacking him from the inside out. He aches to hold him. Wants more than anything to be sure that his eyes are not deceiving him, and that Sam is alive. Has he hurt himself? "No." Unsure, he lets out his worry in a sound far closer to fear and panic than he's comfortable with. He's not used to letting his emotions show like this, but he can't stop himself from feeling what he does any more than that he can stop the thunder if his Father, if God, is in a foul mood.

Wet eyes of anguished sorrow blink up at him. The sadness inside threatens to drown Castiel too. Before it gets to overpower him though the misery he feels gets chased off by a small head shake. "I couldn't…" Sam sobs, then spits out, "I fail at everything."

Relief floods Castiel in his entire being, painful and beautiful at once. There is no blood! But the words of bitter hurt though shatter every spark of hope he feels. Sam is still lost, standing on the edge of high cliffs Castiel can't see, only sense. No, he can't let him go. If Sam falls, then so will he. Driven by his emotions rather than reason or logic Castiel sinks onto his knees to the floor to pull Sam sideward and close to his chest to wrap himself around him.

Tension shifts into action under another sob. A hand pushes against his chest in silent protest of how little Sam thinks of himself, believing that he is a failure and that he doesn't deserve to be cared for. Castiel though refuses to let go. "No. I've got you. Please?" His request for permission to hug comes far too belated, but he can't change it.

The lack of answer worries him until he can feel the fingers of the hand resting on his chest curl their almost possessive hold onto his dress shirt. Glad for the closer contact than he's used to, because he's ditched his trench coat and suit jacket earlier, Castiel takes it for a positive sign. Holding on a bit tighter he stays silent in his offer for comfort. Sam will have to meet him the rest of the way.

"Cas…" His name is but a gasp of understanding before something inside of Sam yields and he lets the knife fall from his hand. It's a conscious step back to safety, or least an effort to let someone else catch him for a change. As if Sam has cut off a string, he shifts to slump against his chest to curl up further into his hold. Sobs wreck through his body, the full force of them making it impossible for Sam to do anything but ride out the waves of grief now that it pours out of him, setting free emotions he's held inside for too long.

"I am here." Castiel brushes a hand over Sam's spine. Maybe his touch can give him the courage to stop hiding? "So are you. Nothing else matters…"

Long minutes tick by, but time means nothing to Castiel while he keeps Sam close, protected. He prays that his presence is enough. It must be, because it's the only power he has left to share with Sam. Together they are stronger than alone. He needs for Sam to see that someone believes in him. That he isn't alone in this fight against the inner demons, which hunt him day and night. Each tear which sinks into the fabric of his shirt and clings to his chest is a sign though that the cursed silence is slowly breaking apart…

"I…" At last Sam stills, exhausted from crying and with nothing left to give. Wet, puffy eyes look up at him from where Sam is leaning his head on his chest. His voice cracks and he tries again. "I was wrong. So stupid. It fooled me, and now… I don't care about me, but they got killed… not me… and I can't fix it."

"Hey." Castiel shakes his head in denial. "Don't you dare feel sorry for being who you are, Sam Winchester." He reaches out to wipe the worst of the tears from stubble covered cheeks. "It was a human thing to do, giving him a choice on whether to fight the change within him or not. Compassion is never wrong. You didn't make the decision for him. _He_ chose to become the monster. It's on him that we are forced to hunt him down and stop him."

"Cas… what if I can never…"

"Hunt again?"

"Yeah."

"Use what you know and fight for good in another way. Be a man of letters with the heart of a hunter. Fulfil your legacy and hunt the monsters with your mind." Castiel nods at the wry smile of understanding and sorrow Sam sends him. "Not that you're not doing so already. You have won so many fights and losing one doesn't mean that you are not strong enough, you know. Because, believe me, you are far stronger than most mortal men… even now, in this moment."

"I should…" Sam pushes himself off his chest to move away, but only for a fraction, and with a mournful sigh of regret. The blush on his cheeks too can't quite be missed. Castiel knows him too well to miss the small tilt of his head meant to let his hair fall into his face to hide the emotions he's not ready to speak of. No, Sam doesn't do compliments well, but who does?

Unwilling to let go of what he feels they both need Castiel doesn't ease off. "Please, stay?" He feels Sam shiver and adds, "Are you feeling cold?"

"A little."

"Allow me to…" On a whim of emotions Castiel gives in to the instinct he's felt rising since the failed hunt, from the second he'd tried to heal Sam and he'd failed halfway down. His need to hug him doesn't end with his vessel, far from it. His entire celestial being feels almost desperate to have Sam breathe against his chest with life. Rather than speak of the love and relief he's feeling though he unfurls his wings to stretch them out and wrap them around Sam on a plain where mortal souls too can see that part of him. "I've got you", he repeats his earlier sentiment in the only way he knows how to.

* * *

From the cocoon of safety Castiel has created hazel eyes full of awe blink up at his wings. The pure interest in them steals his breath away. For a while now he's been losing feathers, and his wings too wear the scars of his choices along with his grace. He no longer is what he's used to be… and yet, Sam faces him with nothing but adoration for what he is.

"Cas, your wings are beautiful. May I?" Already fingers slide away from his chest and over his shirt to reach up to his to Sam's nearest shoulder. They pause though, waiting to move beyond it, for him to give permission for Sam to explore that which so obviously entices him.

Speechless under the open and honest desire aimed at him Castiel nods. "Yeah."

Nothing though can brace him for the almost reverent brush of fingers moving over the backbone of his left wing. Sensations of pleasure run through his body when Sam extends the touch downwards to and through the coat of long, mostly black feathers. A hint of dark colours, almost like a rainbow in their own right, shows itself in the lamp light under how the long fingers fluff them up and ruffle the order of them a little. Castiel can't help but gasp at how good Sam is making him feel… until in an abrupt absence of touch he stops short.

Unhappy over his loss Castiel looks at the hand which pulls away from his coat to present itself to him, with one of his new fallen feathers resting on the upwards turned palm. Sorrowful understanding flashes over Sam's face, but before he can say a word Castiel offers him a wry smile. To make his point of bonding over shared pains he reaches over to pick the feather up and rest it away on the bedside table as an offer for Sam to keep it if he wishes to. "So, I am not what I once was… but then, are any of us?"

"No." The one-worded reply comes out as soft as the return of long fingers carding through his feathers, slower this time and somewhat absent minded. Sam rests his head back against his chest with a small yawn. Tiredness is catching up and though he seems to want to he can't fight it. Too many hours of the night he's lain awake. Now his bruised body needs to heal and for it to be able to it needs to shut down for a while. Even when Castiel isn't human he's spent enough time around them to know it true.

"Sam? Maybe you should sleep for a while…"

"Not yet", Sam looks at him, eyes full of regret and something else, which Castiel dare not name yet. Can it be longing? Or is it wishful thinking on his part? "I need to say… I am sorry…"

"Don't be. Know that you can always be yourself with me, even at your worst."

Rather than speak Sam continues fluffing the feathers of his wings, straightening a few twisted ones with an even more intense touch of reverence, as if he wishes to heal them with his hands. After a while he offers, "We've taken you for granted, haven't we? Leaned on your grace to heal us. I know that heaven has cast you out, but to see what it means, what it has done to you. That angels can break too and shine no less bright for who they are… and, I feel the same, Cas. Now that I am seeing you for you, I am even more sure of…"

"Of what?" Hope unfurls in his chest, chasing the last tension away as Sam faces him. In turn Castiel he doesn't shy away from his intent gaze of want. Though the sentence doesn't get finished in the spoken sense he can see what Sam is trying to say. Knows that he doesn't have the words for his own emotions and longing either. The silence between them is no longer a dark entity. It has gone peaceful almost instead… as if this is meant to be.

"May I…" Castiel has to start again, because of the way his vessel can't contain the rush of love inside his core. "Sam, may I kiss you?"

Sam nods, speechless.

Unsure of who moves first, but aware of that they are both leaning into the other ever further, Castiel presses his lips against the soft heat of Sam's. Someone gasps, maybe they both do, as everything he has felt for the last few days can express itself into a single breath-taking caress. The taste of Sam is perfect to him, even with the addition of whisky. Castiel wants for nothing more than to keep kissing him, but he knows that a mortal soul needs oxygen to breathe and so he pulls away from Sam's mouth to lean their foreheads together.

Lust blown pupils fix on him, before dropping away with a hint of sorrow. "I could sit here and kiss you all night, if I weren't so damned tired and my stupid leg hadn't begun to cramp up. But Cas… I don't think I can get up alone." His voice turns smaller over the admission that he doesn't want to make. The damaged pride of a hunter, of someone used to fighting and always appearing strong, no matter what. It alone takes a lot out of Sam to ask for help with a basic human action.

No pity though… and so Castiel moves on in the only way he knows how to. "Don't be fooled by my smaller shape than yours. I'm still strong enough for two. Trust me?"

Upon his nod Castiel sweeps the hunter up into his arms, on a second attempt, because he's fearful of hurting barely healed wounds. He's no more than a few feet away from the bed and so he can rest Sam on it after taking but a couple of strides. With the same care he helps Sam to stretch out his uncooperative body. To his joy the hold onto his arm remains firm throughout. Almost timidly so Sam asks, "Can you stay?"

All too aware of the nightmares which Sam has suffered and woken from for nights on end Castiel nods. "Of course. I am not letting you go when I have just caught you." He sits down to kiss the nearest cheek with a smile of support. "Sleep, Sam, and I will watch over you."

While he lies down next to the hunter Castiel feels how Sam turns his back towards him to spoon up into his hold, somehow fitting there despite of his longer body. Wrapping his wings too around Sam he lets them insulate him from the cooler bunker air and protect him from the demons of the night, even when it is still daytime upstairs, in the world beyond their private bubble. The monster is kept at bay, for now.

Castiel smiles in relief when the all too human soul in his arms finally relaxes to the full. One more breath… and Sam drifts off towards a deep, peaceful slumber. Tomorrow their fight continues. Healing as always takes its time, but for as long as Castiel can feel the pulse of life beat from within Sam he too can breathe a little easier.

THE END


End file.
